


I Hate You

by Crystalwren



Series: I Own You [5]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Community: kkm_challenge, Dark, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:09:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalwren/pseuds/Crystalwren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how it ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate You

On the pedigree chart, the horse’s name is ‘Wind Dancer’s Song’, but anyone who has to deal with her just calls her ‘Evil Git.’ She’s living proof that the most carefully planned breeding can go awry; her sire and dam were tall, leggy, handsome and even tempered. She is short, ugly, with a long slash of white across her spine that breaks the otherwise unremarkable dun of her coat. She is terrifyingly intelligent and loves and obeys no one but Günter.

She has been dead for one hundred and twenty years.

Günter croons endearments in her misshapen ear as he runs the curry comb down her neck. His voice soothes her and she is calm and relaxed, swishing her tail idly as she sniffs at his hair. No one’s hands are permitted on her but his own; the last time a stable hand tried to touch her she kicked down the door of her stall. She should have been born carnivorous but when Günter touches her, the wildness leaves her eyes and she whickers in pleasure.

“Look at me."

The comb glides smoothly, powerful muscles flexing in its wake. He keeps up a soothing babble as he moves around her, always one hand on her hide to let her know where he is.

“I said, look at me!”

Something strikes the side of his face; pain in his teeth, radiating through the bone of his jaw. Günter blinks in surprise and the stable fades away. He sees, to his mild confusion, an unfamiliar room. Conrart is there, the half Demon’s face twisted in anger. Günter vaguely wonders why, why the anger, why the room, why Conrart is so vexed, but the horse whickers for attention and Günter is in the stable again with curry comb in hand, and he is happy.

 

**

 

It’s there again, that idiot look on Günter’s face. The lovely eyes empty, the fixed, archaic smile on his bruised mouth. Conrart curses softly but with feeling. Günter does not see Conrart, does not respond to blows or entreaties although something will soften the corners of his lips if Conrart makes a slight, gentle touch, the briefest contact.

The Half-Demon leans over Günter again; long lines of red streak the older Demon’s skin, all radiating out from the necklace of esoteric stones. Under the necklace itself the skin is lumpy and hard, as if filled with pus. Conrart would call it blood poisoning but there are no breaks in the skin and there’s no fever. Only the lumps, the red streaks and the overwhelming impression that inside Günter’s head, no one’s at home.

Yet again, Conrart slaps Günter across the face but of course nothing changes. The half Demon and begins to pace the room, biting at his thumbnail. Günter is sick and needs help, that much is clear. The healers at King Belal’s court didn’t understand, would not understand, would only see Günter as a curiosity to be used and discarded. One of them in particular, when approached, had responded with a hideous leer and a request to give Günter a ‘full physical examination’. This from a man of science, a man reputed to treat the young and old, male and female, rich and poor with the utmost dignity and compassion! This healer had even gone so far as to suggest that it was the necklace of esoteric stones that was making the Demon sick! Conrart had been so disgusted that he’d almost struck the old man and had managed to hold back only by a great strength of will.  

“Günter,” Conrart says out loud, “Please talk to me. I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s happening.” He walks over to the bed, where the older Demon lays naked and frighteningly still. Even with the mysterious illness devouring whatever spare flesh he had left, Günter is still a physically stunning creature. Despite the constant worry, Conrart finds himself drawn by the sight of the coarse white hair that surrounds Günter’s soft penis and strokes it, scratches against the grain, but even when he licks at it, Günter’s penis stays soft.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Conrart unbuttons his trousers so he can press his erection against Günter’s non event. He rocks gently, pressing kisses to the older Demon’s slack mouth.

“I love you. Please come back to me.”

 

**

 

“Girls have a vagina. Boys have a penis.”

The disturbing, thrilling words are hissed into Günter’s ear, courtesy of his cousin. She’s a whole ten months older than him and knows a lot.

“That’s rude,” he mumbles, his chubby hands twisting at his napkin. “You can’t say things like that. You’ll get in trouble, Saraphina.”

“It’s true,” declares his cousin, tossing her white hair defiantly, “I know these things. I’m a grown up. You’re just a baby.”

“If you really were a grown up,” Günter points out reasonably, “You’d be sitting at the grownups table.”

“Shut up,” Saraphina snaps, “I could sit up there if I wanted to.”

“Could not.”

“Could too.”

“Could not! And I don’t believe anything else you say either!”

“It’s true! And you’re a boy, so you do have a penis!”

“You’re a liar! I don’t have anything like that!”

“You do! You’re the liar now.”

“I’m going to tell my Mum on you.”

“Dobber,” she hissed, “Dobber and a liar.”

 “Stop it, you’re being mean!”

“Dobber, dobber, dobber!”

“Stop it, Saraphina!”

 

**

 

Moaning, Conrart licks Günter’s nipple and nips at the skin surrounding it. He keeps up a steady, rhythmic grind as he murmurs endearments and obscenities at the unconscious Demon. “Love you...going to fuck you...going to fuck you raw...” The rhythm speeds up, Conrart losing himself in the pleasure of it all, moves up to gnaw on Günter’s jaw. Conrart’s ear is right above Günter’s mouth and that’s the only reason the half Demon hears what Günter whispers in his delirium:

“Sara...stop...”

Conrart jerks bolt upright, as though he’s been struck by lightning. He gasps, struggles, finally draws air down his paralysed throat.

Saralegui.

Of course. It all started going wrong when Saralegui and Beres were there that night. That precious memory of Günter moving beneath him, passionate kisses and arms wrapped about each other; that other memory, the one that came after, of waking up beside Günter and finding the room empty of both king and servant, but with the nagging feeling that something wrong had happened while he was asleep.

His erection forgotten and fast withering, Conrart gets up, sets his garments to rights. He casts a blanket over Günter and sits down at his desk. The note he writes is short and to the point, and he rings for a page to take it.

“This is to go to King Saralegui, do you understand?” The page boy, obviously terrified of Conrart, is not so terrified as to stop himself from gawking at the covered mass that is Günter on the bed. He howls when Conrart strikes him and runs out the door.

Conrart draws his sword and tucks the naked blade underneath the blanket. He sets a chair next to the bed and sits. The sword is only inches away from his hand.

 

**

 

Günter smiles and stretches, and Conrart does as well.

“It’s a beautiful day,” the older Demon says, taking the practice sword from the rack. “I appreciate you taking the time to spar with me. I so rarely get the chance these days.”

“You should make more of an effort. I do believe you’ve gained a little weight.”

“I beg your pardon!” Laughing, half shocked. “Why, Lord Weller, your manners are lacking.”

“What my manners lack your backside more than makes up for,” Conrart says cheekily, his familiar kind smile replaced by an expression that’s downright mischievous. “You’ve spend so long helping Gwendal with his reports that your figure, alas, begins to suffer.”

“And why exactly would you even notice my backside?” Günter shakes his head in amused disbelief and lifts his sword. “Defend yourself, Lord Weller. My honour has been insulted. I shall have vengeance.”

Conrart just grins and raises his sword. It’s a beautiful day for sparring.

 

**

 

Saralegui reads the note three times before he fully grasps what it says. Finally he laughs. “Look at this,” he says to Beres, and shows him the note.

“Interesting,” is all Beres says, but Sara can tell that the loyal man is thinking hard.

“The von Christ’s illness has nothing to do with me. The Demon is suffering long term poisoning from those pretty necklaces that Weller puts about his neck. Nothing more, nothing less.” Saralegui sighed, tapping the bit of paper against his teeth. “I must say that I disagree with the whole tone of this little missive. It’s so disrespectful. I am a king, a lesser king but still a king.”

Beres is silent. He looks out of the window, carefully turning his face away. “One might expect him to have more respect,” he finally ventures, and Saralegui grins.

“Indeed,” he says. He stands. “Shall we go?”

The journey through the palace is long and winding, Saralegui stopping often. Beres is as impenetrable as always, or at least appears so to the casual observer, but Saralegui has known him all his life and can read the dark man with a certain amount of accuracy. For the first time the young king sees a desire that is not directed towards him. If Saralegui is capable of caring for someone he would care about Beres, and therefore he would like Beres to be happy. So he is going to give the man who’d given him so much a present in return.

It was going to be so nice.

 

**

 

Conrart jerks upright at the knock on the door. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to leave the sword behind as he answers it.

“Your Majesty.”

“Lord Weller. I came as soon as I could.”

“Forgive my lack of manners, Your Majesty, but the situation is urgent. Günter is ill and I wonder if your...earlier kindess...might have something to do with it.”

“Oh, no, not all.” Saralegui flicks his hand in dismissal. “I will need to inspect him.”

It takes all his will for Conrart to say, “As my lord commands.”

Saralegui walks to the bed and leans over, watchful Conrart on his heels. The half Demon is forced to stand a little back under the watchful eye of Beres. That’s why Conrart is utterly incapable of stopping what happens next.

Saralegui flicks open the catch on the collar of esoteric stones.

 

**

 

What?

Gunter blinks, looks around him, and then at Conrart kneeling at his feet. The sword is in his hand, the blade in Conrart’s throat. The half Demon is not dead yet; his mouth moves as he desperately tries to speak. With a vicious twist Gunter tears the terrible wound right open. Still Conrart’s mouth keeps moving, and it’s not difficult to understand what he’s trying to say. The Demon leans forward and spits in his face.

Saralegui laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> That's all, folks!
> 
> Written for the kkm_challenge community. Round 40, prompts of 'Gunter' and 'POV'.


End file.
